Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

353 with a pair of those long-roweled Mexican spurs, such as had gone out of fashion on the western range long before his day. He leaned on his elbow near the fire, his legs stretched out in a way that obliged Tater- leg to walk round the spurred boots as he went between his cooking and the supplies in the wagon, the tail-board of which was his kitchen-table. If Taterleg resented this lordly obstruc- tion, he did not discover it by word or feature. He went on humming a tune without words as he worked, handing out biscuits and ham to the hungry crew. Jim had eaten his breakfast already, and was smoking a Cigarette at his ease. Now and then he addressed somebody in obscene jocularity. Lambert saw that Jim turned his eyes on him now and then with sneering contempt, but said nothing. When the men had made a hasty end of their breakfast three of them started to the corral. The young man who had humorously enumerated the virtues of the All-in-One, whom the others called Spence, was of this number. He turned back, offering Lambert. his hand with a smile. ‘““T’m glad I met you, duke, and I hope. you'll do well wherever you travel,” he said, with such evident sincerity and good feeling that Lambert felt like he was parting from a friend. , ‘“‘ Thanks, old feller, and the same to you.” | Spence went on to saddle his horse, whistling as he scuffed through the low sage. Jim sat up. “Tl make you whistle through your ribs,” he snarled after him. It was Sunday. These men who re- mained in camp were enjoying the infre- quent luxury of a day off. With the first gleam of morning they got out their razors and shaved, and Siwash, who seemed to be the handy man and chief counselor of the outfit, cut everybody’s hair, with the ex- ception of Jim, who had just returned from somewhere on the train, and still had the scent of the barber-shop on him, and Tater- leg, who had mastered the art of shingling himself, and kept his hand in by constant practise. 7 ARGOSY AND RAILROAD MAN’S MAGAZINE. Lambert mended his tire, using an old rubber boot that Taterleg found kicking around camp to plug the big holes in his outer tube. He was for going on then, but Siwash and the others pressed him to stay over the day, to which invitation he yielded without great argument. There was nothing ahead of him but des- olation, said Taterleg, a country so rough that it tried a horse to travel it. Ranch- houses were farther apart as a man pro- ceeded, and beyond that, mountains. It looked to Taterleg as if he’d better give it up. That was so, according to the opinion of Siwash. To his undoubted knowledge, covering the history of twenty-four years, no agent ever had penetrated that far be- fore. Having broken this record on a bicycle, Lambert ought to be satisfied. If he was bound to travel, said Siwash, his advice would be to.travel back. - It seemed to Lambert that the bottom was all out of his plans, indeed. It would be far better to chuck the whole scheme overboard and go to work as a cowboy if they would give him a job. That was nearer the sphere of his intended- future activities; that was getting down to the root and foundation of a business which had a ladder in it whose rungs were not made of any general agent’s hot air. After his hot and heady way of quick decisions and planning to completion before he even had begun, Lambert was galloping the Bad Lands as superintendent of some- body’s ranch, having made the leap over all the trifling years, with their trifling details of hardship, low wages, loneliness, and iso- lation in a wink. From superintendent he galloped swiftly on his fancy to a white ranch-house by some calm riverside, his herds around him, his big hat on his head, nfarket quotations coming to him by tele- graph every day, packers appealing to him to ship five train-loads at once to save their government contracts. _ What is the good of an imagination if a man cannot ride it, and feel the wind in his face as he flies over the world? Even though it is a liar and a trickster, and a rifler of time which a drudge of success would be stamping into gold, it is better for CELDOO© = O) Co S Co mM